Blue Socks
by Ink Stained Quill
Summary: May and Tony in the aftermath of Peter's death. Post-Infinity War but Pre-Endgame


Tony hovered in front of the door, unsteady in his still healing body. Happy had offered to go in his place, considering his condition but Tony knew he had to be the one to do this. He had to do this, no matter how little he wanted to. He owed her this.

He raised his hand and knocked.

The door flew open almost instantly. May Parker was on the threshold, eyes sunken into her tired and gaunt face, which was suffused with hope.

"Peter?" she breathed. Tony just looked back at her, unable to speak. She took in his weary, grief-ridden face and the guilt pouring off him. "No." A broken half-moan, half-wail erupted from her throat and she sagged against the door frame. "No, God, no please! Please! Where is he?" She reached for his shirt, clawing and grasping at him weakly.

"Gone," Tony said, his voice cracking. "I watched him– God, May, I'm so sorry." He reached out a hand to steady her but she flinched backwards.

"You're sorry? You promised to keep him safe," she whispered. "You said he'd be safe."

"I know, I'm sor–"

"You gave him a suit and, god, he's just a kid!" She was screaming now. Tears coursed down her face, and Tony felt every word like a knife in his chest. "You told him he could be some goddamn hero and now he's–" She shoved him back out into the hall. "You know what? Fuck your sorry! And fuck you. You didn't deserve him."

The door slammed in his face, leaving him to his stunned, ringing silence. He could hear her screaming and raging and crying through the door, but he knew his presence was no longer welcome. All his strength seemed to have left him and he leaned against the wall shakily as he called Happy to come get him.

It felt like Peter's ashes were embedded in the grooves of his fingerprints and in every breath he took. She was right. Of course she was. Peter hadn't deserved the death and destruction that came with tagging along with Tony Stark, and Tony certainly hadn't deserved the innocent adoration that Peter followed him around with. His breath hitched. He was crying without even realizing it, as he stared blankly in front of him. Some indeterminate amount of time later, his gentle giant of a bodyguard shuffled over and wrapped and arm around his shoulder, leading him down and away from the guilt and blood staining May Parker's door.

{[o0O0o]}

Morgan was just about the most beautiful thing Tony had ever laid eyes on. She was squishy and wrinkled, screaming her tiny lungs out with absolute fury at being awake, and she was perfect. Tony swayed with her in his arms, gently rocking her so she would fall back asleep and maybe Pepper would get some much needed sleep. He paced back and forth around her nursery, whispering about quantum mechanics, until she quieted.

"Aren't you a smarty? Daddy's smart little girl," he said, pressing a kiss to her small forehead. "Who needs fairy tales when you've got physics, huh?" She yawned, letting out a little squeak before settling and falling asleep almost instantly. "Or you're just bored. Hey, that's fine too." He grinned and cuddled her closer.

A flash of movement outside made him tense. He hunched over her, turning his back to the window and peering outside cautiously. A small silver car had pulled up in his driveway and a woman was getting out. She hesitated by the car for a moment, and then marched decisively towards his front door.

"Aw crap, no don't wake her! Friday! Mute the doorbell!" Tony hastily laid Morgan in her crib, and sprinted for the front door, yanking it open before their mystery visitor could knock. "Don't!" he blurted.

It was May Parker.

"Oh." He stepped back warily. He hadn't seen her since he'd delivered the news that Peter was gone, and frankly he hadn't known what to do. He didn't hold her rage against her, but he had figured any friendship they might have had was completely over.

May gave him a shaky smile, brows furrowed. "I'm here to apologize."

Tony replied automatically. "You don't have–"

"Yes, I do," she cut him off. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

He led her around the side of the house to the back, where the patio had been extended into a large entertaining area. She settled herself on one of the couches, while he wandered over to the bar. "Drink?"

"Please." He spent an extraordinarily long time fumbling with the cups and bottle, stalling and straining not to look her way. Finally, she took the glass of amber liquid he offered and sipped. He sat opposite to her awkwardly, unsure of what to do. She looked out over his yard. "I'm sorry for what I said. I was out of line."

Tony hurried to reassure her. "No, May, it's fine. He was your kid."

She nodded, tears were sparkling in her eyes, but they didn't fall. "Yeah, yeah he was. He was yours too, though." She looked at him and huffed out a little chuckle. "Tony, I'm not stupid. I saw the way you looked after him, and I used to hear all about it when you disciplined him. You worried about him like a dad would. And Peter adored you."

Peter's grinning face flashed in Tony's mind, the look in his eyes right before he cracked some horrible joke or pop culture reference. His throat went dry, and he sipped at his whiskey. It didn't help. "Well, he was an easy kid to love."

"After the–" she struggled for a word "–you know, he never came home, and I just told myself that he was out helping people, or he was lost, or his phone was broken, or he was with you, but he was fine. I waited every single day, just sitting and staring at my phone in case he called. I was scared to leave the house. What if he came home and I wasn't there? And then you knocked," her voice broke, "and I thought _he's home._I just–" She started crying. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I know you did everything you could to save him. I should never have said that it was your fault. It wasn't. It's not fucking fair that he's dead, but it's not your fault. I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry." She kept repeating herself, crying harder and choking on the words.

Tony didn't remember moving, but suddenly he had pulled May into a hug, burying his own tears in her shoulder. They sat huddled in their shared grief, letting the silence fill with implied apologies and forgiveness.

After a few minutes, Tony spoke, choosing his words carefully, "I never blamed you for what you said. I was hurt, but I didn't hold it against you. Ever. But I forgive you, so please don't hold onto your guilt." He nudged her head up. "Peter wouldn't want us to keep being uncomfortable around each other, huh?"

May smiled a little. "Yeah." She sat up a little straighter, wiping at her face and shaking her long hair back. It was streaked with more grey, physical signs of the recent stress and grief. She looked a little healthier than the last time and less like a skeleton, but the careworn lines of her face were etched in a little deeper. "So, I heard you had a kid."

Tony lit up. "Morgan. She just fell asleep when you arrived." Morgan was easily his new favorite topic to talk about. He could give lectures on every single one of her tiny baby toes, or every time she giggled, or differentiating between her real smile and her gassy smile. May listened to him ramble on about every exquisite thing about his daughter with a gentle contentedness.

"I brought you something," May said, when he paused. She reached for her bag, rummaging in it for a second, before pulling out small blue baby socks. They were folded over at the top, with matching blue lace frills around the ankles. She reached into her bag again and pulled out a matching knitted cap, made from the same soft blue material and topped with a blue pompom.

Tony took them and smoothed them out, marveling at the softness. "Thank you."

"They were Peter's."

He looked up sharply, his heart thudding in his chest. "What?"

May looked down at the baby clothes. "I was going through some of his things: old photographs and memories I'd kept tucked away. I'd saved some of his baby things, so that he'd have them if he had kids of his own someday, and well." She looked up at him. "He would have been so excited to meet her, and I think she might have enjoyed having him as a goofy older brother." She suddenly darted her gaze away. "Sorry is this weird? You don't have to use them. I just thought–" Tony enveloped her in another hug.

"_Thank you_," he said hoarsely. "Thank you so much." She hugged him back tightly.

The sun was going down, and the sudden drop in sunlight startled them both. May looked at her watch and swore. "I should go, I have to be back home soon."

Tony stood, walking her to her car. "Hey, you're welcome here anytime. Don't be a stranger." May smiled, ran a hand over the baby socks, and got into the car.

As she drove away, Tony could feel some of his pent up tension leave his body. Perhaps it wasn't only May that needed forgiveness. Perhaps Tony had needed it as well.

Pepper was awake when he went back to the house. She looked up from where she was curled on the couch, a book in her hand. She raised a questioning eyebrow.

"May came by," Tony said, and her expression went flat. He knew she was on the fence about May Parker, furious on his behalf about what Peter's aunt had screamed at him that day despite her grief.

"Oh?" she said. "What happened?"

He held out the little socks and hat. "They were Peter's," he said, as though that explained everything.

Judging by Pepper's face, it explained more than enough. She came over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Oh, _Tony_." She looked down at the clothes, running a finger along the lace of the socks. "They're beautiful."

"They're for Morgan," he said numbly. She nodded, and kissed him softly, before nudging him over towards the nursery.

Morgan was just stirring and she blinked up at him calmly, waving her arms and kicking out in excitement when he untucked her blankets. Tony carefully slipped her little socks off and replaced them with the used and loved blue ones. She kept kicking, happily unaware of the whirlwind of emotions going through her father at the sight of her feet in the little booties. He swept her up and placed her on his shoulder. She gummed at the fabric, drooling and chirping.

"You know, kiddo," he began. "Your older brother was Spider-Man, and he was the best…"


End file.
